


Car Sex, Panic Attacks, and Love Declarations

by Dontaskdontpastel (Mistressaq)



Series: Most Popular Queens [6]
Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/F, Hurt/Comfort, Movie Reference, See Notes for TW info
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:01:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26187622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mistressaq/pseuds/Dontaskdontpastel
Summary: in which Bianca needs a break, so does Brooke, but a quickie in the back of Bianca's car takes a turn.
Relationships: Bianca Del Rio/Brooke Lynn Hytes
Series: Most Popular Queens [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1547560
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	Car Sex, Panic Attacks, and Love Declarations

**Author's Note:**

> TW for self injury and panic atatcks, which happen After the smut and Before the hurt/comfort. just wanted to let you know in case you wanna hop off the Angst train and skip ahead to the Fluff after the text break xoxo take care of yourselves

Bianca turned back to her line and found the welcoming face of Jinkx Monsoon. Bianca took solace in the girl’s wide brown eyes. “Good afternoon, Bianca. How are you today?” 

Bianca hung her head. “Honestly, kid, not that great.”

A pale white hand reached out to her over the counter. “That’s too bad, anything I can do to help?”

Bianca looked up, searching the girl’s comforting face. “You know what?” she decided. “Yes, yes there is. Can you cover for me? Say I spilled fryer oil or something?” Bianca asked, reaching for the metal grate to close off her counter. “I really need a damn break.”

Jinkx nodded and smiled genuinely. “Of course, you work hard. They surely aren’t paying you well enough for serving impolite high-schoolers.”

Before slamming the grate down, Bianca took Jinkx’s hand in her own. “You are the calm breeze in my fuckstorm of a life.”

It only took Bianca seven minutes to drive to Pizza Street. Brooke was behind the counter, looking bored and tired as usual. It was lunch rush, but she obviously didn’t care if her customers were served in a timely fashion. Something Bianca found comedic.

Brooke’s head snapped up at the familiar cackle heard from across the crowded restaurant. Her eyes searched for the woman who made her life worth living again. As Bianca stepped out of the shadows, Brooke yanked off her work hat and slapped it into the chest of Newbie Priyanka. “Congrats,” she told the sixteen-year-old. “You're promoted. Listen to the orders, press the buttons, it’s idiot-proof.”

The kid tried to stop Brooke but she was power-walking toward Bianca with all the strength in her anemic body. Brooke was ready to jump the old lady’s bones right against the wall, but Bianca insisted on leading her outside.

Bianca’s VW beetle didn't have nearly enough space to roll around in, but they didn’t care. Their aprons were ripped off before anything else. Brooke smelled like low quality pizza. Bianca, like government-issued protein-loaf. 

Brooke pulled open Bianca’s button-down. Buttons went flying. She dove right into the woman’s chest, smothering her face between Bianca’s breasts where her bra gaped open. Brooke sucked and kissed at her sternum. She adored the mature, slightly textured flesh. Bianca’s racing heart made her left titty jiggle the smallest amount. Brooke hummed against Bianca’s ribcage and Bianca felt the vibrations penetrate all the way down.

Bianca snuck her long fingers down Brooke’s sides, the girl’s top riding up to expose more translucent milky flesh. Bianca’s blunt nails ghosted under the belted waistband to grip the younger woman’s bony hips, holding her hands there to support, to lead, to dominate from the bottom. 

Brooke’s breath was warm against Bianca’s chest, and her breath kept raising new colonies of goosebumps across her body. She felt a  _ click _ , then freedom. Looking down, she saw Brooke had undone her front-clasp bra with only her teeth. “Impressive,” muttered Bianca. 

A mischievous grin spread out from her lips, still holding the clasp. 

Bianca’s heart skipped a beat. She took Brooke’s chin between her two fingers. “Come here.” 

Brooke obeyed and their lips met, softly at first, but snowballing passion drove their mouths to desperation. Kissing admittedly wasn’t Bianca’s favorite activity, so they only lip-locked long enough to wordlessly debate who needed to get off the most. Conclusion made, Brooke stared into Bianca’s eyes, investigating what her partner wanted. 

Brooke massaged Bianca’s breast with one hand, the other slinking down to test the other woman’s arousal.

If Brooke were a novice at reading Bianca, she would have been disappointed that the woman was not as wet as she was. But, judging from the rest of her body -- the way she closed her eyes, tilted her head back, by the speed of her breath, how her thumb pressed into Brooke’s hip... 

_ Fuck. _

Brooke lifted her damp fingers to her face, a breath away from Bianca. She made sure to put on a show, sucking on one digit while smell-testing with the other. Bianca’s taste was unlike anything Brooke had known before. She was rich and deep, with a tang underlining all else. She moaned, her eyes fluttering closed. “I could get drunk on you, babe,” she whined.

She pried Bianca’s lips apart with her own, let the woman taste herself on Brooke’s tongue. Their lips still connected and tongues hard at work, Brooke worked Bianca’s slacks down to her calves, pushing the woman’s underwear down with them. Bianca opened her legs to let Brooke come closer. The younger woman palmed Bianca’s heat, cupping her there, then started in on her folds. Brooke smirked against Bianca’s lips as she felt the woman’s response beneath her.

Brooke broke off the kiss, leaving Bianca panting. She worked her way down Bianca’s naked chest with her lips, showing special attention to scars, moles, freckles, age spots and stretch marks. She made her way down and around where Bianca’s underwear and pants had squeezed and made her sore. Bianca hummed in approval, gyrating, seeking more friction. Brooke quickened her fingers, eliciting a gravelly moan from above.

Brooke kissed and sucked her way down, teasing Bianca and nuzzling the woman’s soft inner thigh. She could smell Bianca’s want--her  _ need  _ for Brooke. She felt herself tingling in her panties. Her own heart jumped, breathing nearly matching Bianca’s heightened panting. This feeling, that being wanted, needed, desired, Brooke never wanted it to end.

But it wasn’t about her right now. As Brooke looked up at the vulnerable woman before her, saw her muscles aching for release, facial expression so needy it hurt to look at, Brooke had no choice but to dive right in.

While Brooke worked her over with her mouth, Bianca sought out the girl’s hand. It was lonely up here, her head banging against the side door. As Brooke’s fingers intertwined with her own, the girl looked up at her. 

Those eyes. Those eyes that looked up at her the morning after chaperoning the prom. The eyes Bianca sought out when Brooke had started that coughing fit those weeks back. The tears of relief she’d shed when her medical results came back normal (excepting the low iron and vitamin D). _Her_ Brooke. The frightened child and jaded adult all represented in one place.

She squeezed Brooke’s hand as her back arched. Brooke squeezed back, the sounds of Bianca’s climax signaling her good work.

Brooke watched Bianca as she caught her breath, twirling her fingers around Bianca’s soft lower belly.

When the woman had calmed down and proved to not be her talkative post-orgasm self, Brooke frowned. She insecurely noted how Bianca wouldn’t meet her eyes. “Hey,” She poked the older woman in the ribs. “Hey, look at me.” Brooke pouted. “The position of ‘emotionally distant girlfriend’ is already filled, thank you very much.”

Bianca looked down at Brooke, her expression skeptical. “You’re not emotionally distant.”

“What?”

Bianca sat herself up despite Brooke’s protests. “You think you’re this enigma, this cynical bitch with a chip on her shoulder, but you’re not, Brooke.”

The girl in question balked, pulling away in confusion.  _ Where did that come from? _ She felt suddenly naked, and not at all in a good way.

Bianca still held her hand. Brooke tried to pull away, but Bianca folded her other hand over Brooke’s, protecting it from all harm. “Yeah, you use this mask in front of people--That you don’t give a fuck. But that’s not who you are underneath.”

Brooke looked over at Bianca, discomfort and panic tugging at her insides. She tried to pull away again. For the second time, Bianca refused to allow it. 

“Hey, kid.” She tried to force the blonde to meet her gaze, but something had changed behind those eyes. The castle drawbridge had been pulled up, thick stone walls rebuilt in mere seconds. Brooke had locked her out once again. Bianca released Brooke’s hand. Brooke pulled her arms over her chest, crossing one over the other, hiding her hands. Her eyes scanned the floor of the car. Brooke reached out and grabbed her Pizza Street apron. 

Bianca sighed. “I didn’t mean to piss you off--”

Brooke flung the door open and stepped out of the car. And stopped. Bianca didn't deserve this kind of treatment, Brooke knew.  _ Use your words _ . She took a deep breath and forced herself to turn and lean down, forced herself to look Bianca in the eye. “I…” her words failed her. She took in a sharp breath. “It’s not you, it’s me.” She cringed at her use of cliché. Brooke closed her eyes. “I just… I can’t talk about this right now. But…” she met Bianca’s concerned gaze. Her eyes burned.  _ You deserve better than this _ .

“I have to get back to work,” Brooke choked out before walking off into the parking lot. She tugged her clothes back into place, hoping to God her mascara had already rubbed off in the car, because if it hadn’t, it would be streaming down her cheeks as she stopped in front of the staff entrance.

The panic in her chest had morphed into a black hole, sucking all her hopes and positive thoughts into it. Brooke’s face contorted in anguish. Rage broiled in her veins, which she directed into her right arm, down into her fist.

She punched the concrete wall. Fireworks sputtered up her arm. She ignored them. She punched the wall again. And again with the other arm. She sobbed and cried out in pain, both physical and emotional. 

Then somebody had their arms around her, pulling her away. She screamed and kicked in protest. Then they spun her around. It was Bianca. Clothed once again, her warm brown eyes pleading.

Brooke’s resolve buckled. All the fight in her sapped away. She crumpled to the dirty tarmac of the parking lot, taking Bianca with her. “I’m sorry,” choked Brooke through sobs. Bianca tried to soothe her, but Brooke just kept repeating “I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry I’m sorry”

Bianca held Brooke, rocking her, muttering phrases of comfort, trying to calm her down. 

Brooke had no way of measuring how long she’d been sitting on the ground, curled up in Bianca’s arms. Eventually, her breathing started to match Bianca’s, and her mind stopped racing enough at some point to recognize that the woman was humming, singing softly. 

When Brooke had calmed down, Bianca smoothed the hair from the younger woman’s damp forehead. “Hey,” she offered.

Brooke stared up gratefully at Bianca. She wanted to reach up and caress the woman’s face, but her arms were really tired, and her hands ached. 

Bianca caught her trying to move her arms, but stopped her. “Easy, there. You did more damage to yourself than the wall. Now that might have been your plan, but I’m not known for letting you hurt yourself, am I?”

Brooke sigh-hummed in response. She left her arms to dangle at her sides.Though they were still sore, they didn’t hurt as much when she didn’t try to move them.

“Ever had a broken bone?” asked Bianca.

Brooke nodded, her mouth too stuck to speak.

“Anything feel broken?”

Brooke tried. Her knuckles hurt like hell and were already very swollen, but she could move all ten fingers and rotate her wrists, so that was a good sign.

After a calm passing silence, Bianca spoke up. “You know, you don’t have to talk about it before you’re ready but...” She made a noise in the back of her mouth like she was looking for words. “Just… I get that… being vulnerable with someone is fucking scary. And I need you to know… I don't… I don't not notice that you let yourself be vulnerable with me and…” She pursed her lips, averting her gaze. "I don’t wanna fuck that up.”

Brooke gazed up at Bianca. Still recovering, she has to pause a lot when she starts talking, trying to explain, however her brain will let her. “You know that peter pan movie? With Robin Williams?”

Bianca nodded, staying silent so Brooke would go on.

“You know the part where Julia Roberts as Tinkerbell… shes suddenly human size and Peter Pan is like… what’s going on and she… it’s weird and doesn't make a lot of sense but… she says essentially, like, ‘I had to become big enough for the feelings I’m feeling for you.’” Brooke swallowed, looking up at Bianca, her expression unreadable.

“It’s like…” Brooke cleared her throat. “It’s like all of my Feeling just… hit me at once and I couldn’t, I wasn’t, I’m not big enough for all of them.” She paused, looking down, her brow creasing. “When you started saying those things to me…”

Bianca’s voice came out in a whisper. “You don’t have to--”

“No,” Brooke interjected. “You deserve to know…”

Brooke’s voice trailed off again, leaving a worryingly long silence between them.  


“I love you.”

Bianca blinked.

Brooke heaved herself into a sitting position on her own so she could look straight into Bianca’s eyes as the words came pouring out of her. “I’ve known it for a while, deep down. But I always pushed it away because I knew no one could ever feel the same way about me. Until this afternoon, and you were saying those things about how you actually know me and… and I felt--I  _ saw  _ that you were telling me you loved me without saying the exact words.”

Bianca’s lips moved but she had no words to put through them. 

“You know it, Bianca,” Brooke implored. “You haven’t said it exactly but you’ve shown it countless times, today alone. You were having a rough time and you came to  _ me _ _._ You didn’t go home and smoke a joint all alone, because you decided there was a preferable option. To come to me.” 

Bianca’s mind was racing, forming the connections from her memories to Brooke’s breathless confession, which only continued further.

“Your eyes told me time and time again just now in the car.” 

It hadn’t been the physical sensations, it had been Brooke’s eyes that had finished Bianca. Her heart started to race. She felt a rush of freezing heat. 

Brooke continued unimpeded. “And most of all you saw that I was going to a bad place, and you  _ stayed _ . You pulled me back, you showed me how this works -- this  _ caring _ for someone else. I’d forgotten what it looked like, what it felt like. And fuck, this is lame, but you know what, it’s the truth. So, fuck: Bianca Del Rio, I’m telling you I love you.” 

She panted. “Now, can you honestly tell me that you don’t feel the same for me?”

The question was half desperate and half dare. 

Kissing was not Bianca’s favorite pastime, but sometimes it's the only way to communicate exactly what you’re really thinking. 

Through the tenderness of their embrace, something tugged at the edge of Bianca’s mind. “Wait,” she pulled away. 

“What is it?” Brooke’s eyes searched Bianca’s. 

Bianca cocked an eyebrow. “You said something else in the car.”

Brooke tilted her head inquisitively, like a dog trying to hear better. “Did I?”

“Mm-hm,” said Bianca. “You called yourself my girlfriend.”

“No, I didn’t.” Brooke’s reddening face and wayward gaze broadcasted the truth.

“Not exactly that,” Bianca granted. “You said something about ‘the position of emotionally-distant girlfriend’ being taken.”

“Maybe I did, and maybe I didn’t.” Brooke swayed mischievously, her lips pursed to keep herself from grinning. 

“Oh, you definitely did,” argued Bianca. “So does that mean… this,” she motioned toward the space between them. “Is officially a thing?”

Brooke hid part of her face demurely behind her shoulder like a vintage pin-up girl. “If you want it to be, it can be.”

“Do  _ you  _ want us to be a thing?”

“I wouldn’t mind…  _ us .” _

They both smiled. 

Neither woman went back to work that day.


End file.
